


eight skeletons you absolutely didn't fall in love with ( but definitely did )

by scripttura



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Non-Traditional Portrayals, Other, Pacifist Ending, Past Abuse, Racism, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Reverse Harem AU, Sans... Sans' everywhere..., Shifting perspectives, Slow Burn, Slurs, Smut, ebott is owned by monsterkind, more of that sans loving sans bc i'm a slut for it, pacifist run but things fucked up, where are the papyri?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scripttura/pseuds/scripttura
Summary: after an unwelcomed, familiar face from your past had popped up just to get you fired, you'd been lucky to know a couple of (some not so) friendly skeletons who helped you find somewhere new to work in the monster governed city of ebott: grillby's isn't in the human district, but it's warm, the patrons are pleasant, and you really can't complain when it's just this shy far from home. but when you get an eviction notice for seemingly no reason, and not even a month later expelled from college for just about the same, where are you going to go?or, better phrased, reader gets hilariously yet tragically stuck in a house full of skeletons, and things go downhill from there.





	1. eviction notice

**Author's Note:**

> Undertale Sans = Sans , Underfell Sans = Red , Underswap Sans = Blue , Horrortale Sans = Axe , Horrorfell Sans = Rot , Underlust Sans = Avar , Dusttale Sans = Dusty , Beasttale Sans = Beast .
> 
> Devoted to Latin .

“So, what do you think?”

“y’really gotta ask?” A familiar, rough voice answers before you can think twice . “t’be frank kid, i can’t _wait_ t’choke you with it.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, and roll your eyes before shooting the skeleton a look over the bar - it’s not a very friendly look, but he grins back all the same, full of sharp teeth and sharper words. “ _Funny thing,_ I wasn’t asking you.”

“no, but you should be.”

Try as you might to return back to your company, your…  “ _favored_ ” patron was far from someone you could easily ignore. He’d just keep cutting in, keep stealing the show, keep ravenously tearing you apart from across the room with his eye … lights (?) alone.

Not that you were unused to it, but he was a paying customer, and at the end of the day? Harmless.

You sigh, and shoot your coworker an apologetic glance, but they only shrug behind your back - they know how Red is just as much as you do, only they didn’t share your tolerance for the way you put up with the skeleton’s usual hassling. Shift after shift, the monster stumbled in, raking up his tab until he either had to be hauled out or somehow stumbled away on his own, cursing all the while.

… He always left a nice tip, at the very least, so you couldn’t think him _completely_ bad.

“And why should I, hm?” Genuine curiosity tugs at your voice as you reach for his now empty glass. Ruby lights watch as you’re quick to refill him, knowing he prefers it ( and honestly, is more hospitable ) with the drinks coming and the banter even more so. “No, wait. I can already guess. ‘Cause it’s stupid and you think _i’m stupid_ , or to some varying degree. Sound about right?”

The monster only grins at you, a lascivious thing on his razor teeth, and how he draws out the words, thick in his accent, “keep this up, you won’t even need me ‘round to remind you what scum you are.”

“And yet, you _still_ make passes at me and anything else that breathes. Talk about double standards, dude.” Something sly creeps into your voice, off-handed as you slide his drink back before him, and he’s quick to huddle it close like some kind of treasure. Something in his brow furrows, and he looks ready to turn and spit another insult at you, just as always, but he doesn’t get to.

“ _Sans_ .” Relief etches in, just barely so. You can handle Red plenty fine most nights, and while he’d been in a somewhat decent mood thus far, something about his off-kilter mood swings tonight just hadn’t been sitting well with you ( sometimes he gets just this shy of _too much_ , and after this long working behind a bar, you know the signs for trouble clear as day ). Seeing the familiar blue-clad skeleton eases you more than you thought, making you return his somewhat lackadaisical grin. Red, for whatever nasty thing he was about to say, turns from irritated to sulking, a half-groan, half-snarl escaping through his ribcage.

“ _really?_ y’had t’call fuckin'  _him_ again?” If you knew any better, you’d say Red was a decent monster enough to sound _betrayed_ by the fact you’d called his… roommate (?) to collect his sorry ass. But you  _do_ know better, so you don’t even spare him a glance as Sans catches your eye, sauntering up behind Red.

“heya.” His voice is the same low murmur as Red’s, without the inlaid snarl, that thick accent barely hinting at his words. Amenable looking as always, there isn’t a thing Sans couldn’t sport and make look uncomfortable down to that trademarked hoody, grey sweatpants, and pink slippers - and all out in _public_ , no less! You return his easy, warm grin for your own, dipping your head at a fuming Red.

“Hey, Sans. Come for your pick-up order?” It’s a slight tease, but Red rumbles all the same, the look he shoots you positively _murderous._

“heh, just the usual, as always.”

“hardy fuckin’ har. you two done flirtin’ yet, or can you just skip to the part where you kick me out?”

“don’t be like that.” Something tenses in Sans’ tone, and where he’d almost gone to set a hand on Red’s shoulder, he hesitates before sliding into the bar seat beside him. You watch as Red momentarily cinches up, baring his teeth as if he might rise to the bait once again, only for him to sigh, slinking further into his arms, nursing his last drink sullenly.

Sans and Red have a… strange relationship, to be honest. You knew the edgy skeleton from your last gig - before you got fired, and had only met Sans the once or twice then, when he’d come in to whisk away his lookalike without a second word. Even beforehand Red was a handful of a customer - causing fights, disrupting the bar, and simultaneously lusting after you and calling you a whole host of terrible things in the same breath.

He staked it up to the fact he didn’t like humans. Couldn’t stand them by his regard, and distrust lingered in his eyes whenever he talked to you, and down to any other human he managed to sneak out the door sometime during your shift. But he treated most monsters the same - brisk and at a distance, sharp and full of threats and slurs, until the moment he was basking in their attention or pulling them out of the bar for a round.

Red said it was just a human thing, but you’re pretty sure it’s an everyone thing.

“don’ be like what, huh?” Huffed into the rim of his drink, those ruby eyes not daring a glance over to Sans or you, stuck to his drink and the bartop. You’ve got nothing urgent to do, so you stick near, idly cleaning taps and glasses alike. Sans looks like he’s about to say something, before Red grits his teeth and suddenly pulls from the bar, snarling through the words - “forget it. fine. ‘m goin’ home.”

He turns to leave out the door, leaving Sans alone to stare quietly after him, a far-off look in those faded, white lights of his. He almost looks… sad? You aren’t sure. He’s harder to read than Red, and not just because you’ve known him a shorter amount of time. He’s good at keeping himself guarded, minute in his expression changes whereas his roommate damn near wears his heart on his sleeve.

He cares for Red, you know that. But from the bits and pieces you’ve heard of them talking, down to helping Sans half carry out a drunken Red at the end of your shift one too many times, you know that Red cares for him too in his own prickled way. Roommates, but close, just not in a way you’re sure you want to broach upon. There’s a lot of unsaid stuff there, and it’s written in that look following Red’s back out the door.

“... You good?” You can’t help but ask. Sans snaps out of it, and with the way his lights dart to you, he seems to realize you’d watched the whole thing and clears his throat, putting back on that familiar mask. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but you can still see _that_ all the same, as he shamelessly reaches for Red’s unfinished drink.

“... yeah. uh, thanks. for texting me.” He takes a sip - only to screw up his face at the taste, nasal ridge scrunching up, and you bite back a snort of laughter. While Sans _does_ like the strong stuff, he doesn’t drink often, so when he does it’s usually something light and sweet - unless he’s _really_ looking to get hammered. But Red’s tequila slammer really isn’t… his type.

“'Course. I figured something was up when he basically threw himself onto the bar to mope.” Humor laces through what was partly the truth. At first, you were more than willing to let Red drink himself through whatever it was bothering him. After all It wasn’t your business, you weren’t friends by a long shot, and honestly, it’s how he usually came in - downing drink after drink like he either had something to prove or something to forget, but tonight…

Tonight, instead of picking fights or making you uncomfortable, you’d noticed by the time he was on his fourth drink, Red had started to flinch at nearly anyone that passed him by. He’d played it off well enough, but you had a keen eye for nervous bodies sitting at your bar, if only for the best intentions - and, well, Red normally, if _ever_ seemed far from the nervous type.

So you’d done the responsible thing, texting Sans with the usual  _he’s drunk._  Which wasn’t a lie, but… still. He came, and you’re thankful if mostly for Red’s sake ( Okay, maybe you aren't friends - and yeah, red seems to hate you, but that doesn't change the fact you couldn’t help but care ).

“heh.” Sans huffs out a laugh, scratching idly at the back of his neck, before leaving the drink to sit. “well, still.”

A movement you know too well, and you crook a brow, raising up a hand. “Hey - don’t worry about it.”

“... y’sure?”

“Yeah. Besides,” You crook him a grin, and can’t help but feel slightly proud when his own becomes a little more genuine. “What kind of precedent are you setting if you pay for _his_ tab, but not your own?”

“shit.” Snickering behind a hand, amusement rolls light in those sockets of his. “guess you’re right.”

“Besides, whenever he comes back, he’ll make good on it. Always does.” Even if he doesn’t have to, even if Grillby seemed to have somewhat of a penchant for these skeletons, dressed down in their faded and stained hoodies, and those plastered grins. “Now, uh, I’ve gotta get back to work. Text me?”

He never does.

“you got it, pal.”

And with a wink, he saunters out, and you grab the glass off the bartop. Familiar flames flicker out of the corner of your eye, and you fix Grillby with a warm, eased smile, even as he crackles lightly in return.

You’ve got the whole night ahead of you, and without much thought, tuck the necklace you’d shown off prior under your collar, hidden.

 

 

It’s long past midnight by the time Grillby closes shop, and despite his slight protest you should’ve already long been gone, you linger. Not for the extra hours or to suck up to your boss, nor a fear of what happens should you stay out too late - but the idea that once you get home, you’ll be alone again, and much as you like your space, there’s a companionship that you crave you can’t quite get anywhere else.

He’s a kindly monster, and an older one too - few words and little discrimination when it comes to humanity, and while you haven’t known each other long, he’s… pleasant to be around, even in the silence of his crackling flames. You’re sure he understands because he doesn’t press too badly once you stay behind to help close, putting things away and cleaning diligently, humming an idle song.

Because of the curfew it’s too late and too long of a walk home from Grillby’s most of the time when you get off. It’s why he presses for you to leave on time most nights, but thankfully he’d been kind enough to vouch for you and fill out the forms necessary to get you a bus pass when you’d first been hired on. It cuts out most of the hassle of traveling in the city without an escort, but sometimes you’re just unlucky enough to be caught by the wrong monster or by the Royal Guard.

Like tonight.

“... HALT! Human!”

A quiet sigh spills a plume of fog from your lips, and despite it being mid-fall, winter looks to be coming early by the chill of things. You know better than to hesitate to listen and stop in your tracks - turning to face the voice, the glinting streetlights casting harshly on what you know to normally be soft features.

“O-oh, I didn’t... recognize your scent.” Keen black eyes fixed on you, black nose twitching on a pointed snout - Dogaressa without Dogamy it seems, her ever shy nature shining through quite easy. You offer her a wince of a smile, kind all the same, and draw your coat closer. “... You’re out past curfew.”

“I know, um, but I’ve got my bus pass and my collar - I was just running late, you know, the usual. I can show you? If… you need to see,” It’s… uncomfortable, and not just for you - Dogaressa is shy despite her brutish strength and her position in the guard, most especially without her partner Dogamy. If anything, you’re lucky he’s not alongside her, or else you might be facing more than her uncertain stare.

She seems to waver for a few moments, before slightly shaking her head.

“No need.” Soft compared to the way she had barked at you at first, and you relax, relieved. You’d hate to spend the time it’d take her to check exactly where you’d been by the chip against your neck - so you give her as grateful a smile you can manage, tucking further into yourself.

“Thanks, Dogaressa. I appreciate it - my stop is just up the street, I’ll be gone in less than ten minutes, promise.”

A pause, and she knew you were telling the truth. Like she could smell it on you - or knew, from the handful of other times she’s caught you walking out past curfew, mostly with her partner, only to have to detain you for a good part of the night. Unlike Dogamy, she’s a lot less strict, and seems to dislike the law as much as you do.

“You can’t keep doing this.” A murmur, and you pause, swallowing carefully. Avoiding her gaze, you rub at your arm, half turned on your heel.

“... Yeah, I know.”

You’ll admit that much. Too many times, and it wouldn’t be a simple reprimand.

But she doesn’t seem keen on giving lectures, and only huffs, black nose twitching once more before she tilts her head, behind you to the street, and you follow her gaze to see your bus turning down the corner.

“Be quick.” Dogaressa warns, “Consider this a warning.”

A friendly one.

So you gift her another grateful smile, and turn around, just barely catching your bus in time.

 

 

It’s a thankfully quiet ride from Grillby’s to your apartment, the shift to the human district only acknowledged by a simple announcement by the driver ( a human as usual - they knew the city better than the monsters did, and ran most of the bus lines under scrutiny ) and the more silent, but plenty drastic change out the fogged windows.

Ebott was a gem of a city, nestled in a valley tipped by the tallest mountains this side of the coast. It’d been a surprise across the world when monsterkind had emerged, but less so for the superstitious inhabitants of the once sleepy valley, the sudden flood of creatures too swift, too quick, too brutal to fight back.

There’d been too many, too much hysteria, too much force behind their sudden appearance to really _do_ anything. Ebott fell to Asgore’s quick work to get a firm grip on the city, and it was a miracle there wasn’t a single casualty in the following panic. Just a very tense standoff that still lingered to this day, from the outside world to the monsters that held an iron grip on the city.

You weren’t a prisoner - none of the humans that still lived in Ebott were. But for the longest time, even after the house arrest was removed, leaving the city was impossible. Not just because of monsterkind, but from the barricade stretching across the mountain range and the encampment at every road out of the city, it just wasn’t feasible.

But it wasn’t all terrible. It’d gotten better, eventually, and most humans left after the first year when given the chance. Enough stayed for there to be laws set into place, a whole district of the city repurposed for humans. Despite all the misunderstanding and distrust, despite Asgore’s blatant distrust of humanity, not all of monsterkind was bad, and it showed from the work the queen did to keep things civilized, up to the way Dogaressa let you go not an hour ago.

The human district wasn’t a bad place either - humans and monsters alike could roam about, the curfew no such thing in these streets, and strangely enough, the nightlife bloomed here in this part of the city more than any other. Monsters were in love with the idea of humanity, and whoever stayed behind, whoever smuggled in… loved the idea of monsterkind, too.

Clubs and bars illuminated signs against the glass, while antiquity and book stores amongst so many others sat sleeping for the night. While many had left because things had gotten worse - staying had been worth it, even if you had to wear a collar outside the district you belonged to. The sights were worth it, the way monsters and humans alike danced and met together in the cold streets under lamplight, drawn by similarities and differences alike, _worth it._

Ebott city belonged to the monsters, but humans weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

The bus drove past it all, stopping twice more to load up and you thankfully hardly flinched as someone took a seat beside you, looking out onto the night. It wasn’t long until apartment buildings loomed up behind the glass, the bus coming to a squealing stop, and you gathered your things before slipping past the quiet teen half asleep, quick to take the window seat you vacated.

Taking the fire escape two stairs at a time, it wasn’t a fancy place - good as you could afford. Once halfway between your college campus and old job, it was comfortable enough with two, but cozy with just you. Your roommate had left months ago, not because of monsters, but… because of something else.

You try not to think about it.

It’s the paper taped to your door that catches your eye before you can even grab your keys. Bloody red against the dark door, black text that you can read without even meaning to.

Your heart jumps into your throat.

It’s an eviction notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yyyyyyeah i'm just gonna pretend i don't owe updates on two ( and more ) other stories,
> 
> decided to give the skeles more familiar names for this fic, but i'm still sticking to my portrayal and hcs for them individually, so don't expect them to 100% be like the boys you know! i'm also working on my writing style, formatting it from less poetic to more... casual? yeah! so if it feels weird, it's me getting the hang of it tbh.
> 
> also, it's 3 am. if there's mistakes, i'll fix it come morning,
> 
>  
> 
> [bug me on my tumblr!](http://scripttura.tumblr.com)


	2. unlikely offer

Working through your next shift isn’t exactly… easy. Not because of the job itself, but by this point you’ve broken two glasses, served someone monster beer over regular, and while Grillby isn’t exactly _upset_ , he’s considerably worried. The low crackle of his flame keys you in to his silent question, but you hardly reassure him - you’re okay, just… tired.

The fire elemental doesn’t buy the excuse in the slightest, but it’s often enough you’ve gotten detained for being out past curfew, so it’s only a _half_ lie. Nevertheless, Grillby must see something in your tired gaze and decides to let it go quicker than you’d hoped, and you’re more grateful than you can exactly say. At the very least of his request, you take an early break before dinner rush.

You sigh as you sink into the padded booth, letting yourself nearly collapse against the cushions around you. You’re more than just tired - you’re _exhausted_. After coming home near past one in the morning to an eviction notice cited for the end of next week, you’d tried texting, calling, even _emailing_ anyone from the building complex’s management office, only to get a formal reply via email come dawn that read you just weren’t welcome anymore due to some bullshit clause on the lease they’d never cared about beforehand.

… In all honesty? You knew exactly why you were being evicted, and it went beyond some ridiculous cry for being a _nuisance to the neighbors_ , but losing sleep over it wasn’t an option. You refused to. You’d find a new place in this city, and you would do it on your own.

Without him. Without anyone.

So you had typed up a cordial reply, knowing full well you were far more furious than your curt words would allow, and turned in for the morning. You slept fitfully before looking at apartment listings (having terrible luck), only to turn to your homework as an escape before getting ready for work once again.

At the very least you had your distractions. School, a nice job, a kind boss - it keeps you busy, keeps you focused, and looking for a new place wasn’t be a terrible idea, was it? It was going to be difficult, push come to shove, with the already cramped designated housing in the human district, but you’d make do.

You refused to leave Ebott. That would be giving in.

A flicker of flame in the corner of your eye, and you watch with your chin set into your palm as monsters and humans alike come and go, laughing and living together in harmony. It isn’t like this completely across the city, but Grillby was an older monster with a love for humankind, and so they were always welcome here - even as employees.

If you just ignored the different ways humans hid their chips, in collars and necklaces, wristbands and anklets, you’d think it was perfect.

It’s not, but it’s close enough. The first taste to a better world, you hope.

One where monsterkind could eventually leave Ebott, and you could stay. Make it somewhere you could be safe.

… Happy, maybe.

It’s more frustrating a thought than you can say, and before you know it, your vision blurs, fingernails digging into your chin. Quickly do you carefully wipe away tears, before sinking ever further into your seat, knowing you had to get back to work soon.

As much as you don’t want to tell Grillby, you figure you don’t really have any choice. In the off chance you flunk at finding a place to live, your boss and voucher in one might need to know in case your situation became unstable. Nevermind the fact you did trust Grillby, a kind-hearted yet professional monster who you knew would keep this carefully under wraps worst come to worst.

(Without a proper residence, you’d be unqualified to work in Ebott, let alone _stay_.)

And you needed this job. Desperately.

  
  
  


The dinner rush went along smooth as ever, and you’re definitely thankful for your early break. It gave you enough time to pull together, mull over your options and situation, before deciding where to go from here. A little more clear-headed, it isn’t long until a familiar monster sits at your bar towards the end of night, readily feeding up on every bit of attention you were willing to deny him.

“- _c’mon_ , kid. jus’ a freebie. swear i won’t tell,” sing-song, Red speaks through that familiar set of tangled fangs, golden tooth glinting in the warm light. You’re far less interested in giving him what he wants and much more in waiting until you’re relieved from the bar so you can go find Grillby in the back. And yet, _someone_ has a _different_ idea.

“sugar, princess, _hardass_ , ‘m talkin’ to you.”

You turn to another customer, a monster with loping ears that twitch with their nose in idle amusement, and savor the twisted scowl on Red’s skull from the corner of your eye. For some reason, Red didn’t have a particular liking towards the rabbit monsters that came in, and if it got him to leave you alone, well. Win and win, right? After all, they were kindly monsters, and this one’s humor laced their voice as they ordered.

“I’ll get right on it, hun.” Laying it on a little thick, maybe it was just _slightly_ vindictive when you knew Red’s anger was on the rise, knowing more likely than not it wouldn’t be you facing the price. But the monster just smiles crookedly, seemingly knowing yet unbothered all the same at the meltdown in the making as you got his drink.

… Red’s mostly harmless for the most part, par his taunting and drunken lusting. Maybe it isn’t fair to take out what happened to you on him, that seething bitter taste in your chest from the knowledge you’re being unfairly driven from your home. It’s not his fault, and yet you find it easier to rile him up than to entertain him.

By the time you hand the rabbit monster his drink, Red has gone strangely quiet, sulking over his mustard in a familiar fashion that usually befits some kind of dramatic ranting. And yet he only huffs when you pass by, those ruby lights stuck on his bottle, and before you have the chance to feel guilty about a monster who likes to put you down much as harass you, Chelsea comes through the back door, a quiet smile on her lips.

A little shy, Chelsea’s the only other human Grillby’s yet to hire, and a hard worker if you’ve ever seen one. Kind of an oddity, the way she shifts from behind the bar to behind closed doors makes her one of the most dynamic people you’ve had the pleasure to know. Professional, kindly, and a little stern when standing soft-spoken at her post, it’s alone that she smiles broadly, laughs loudly, and more often than not needs some kind of filter.

… You don’t get the chance to hang out outside of work often enough but it’s nice to see her anyways, hearing at Red’s heavy groan, he knew his antics weren’t going to get much further for much longer.

“You’re gonna take the full hour today, right?” A knowing look as you pass her the glass in your hands, and you can’t help but give her slanted smile, knowing full well you’d more than likely be back in under the hour.

“I dunno, are you gonna make me?” You’re already moving past her, anxious not to drag your feet, and she must notice by the way she watches you go with brows shooting into her short bangs.

“Don’t be back before fifteen ‘till or I _will_ tell Grillby.” Teasing, her voice carries over the murmuring crowd, not quite the pitch she’s working it out to be - and yet underneath it you can hear Drux’s low murmuring, knowing full well that by the time you reach the door to the back she’ll be distracted, unable to catch what you have to say.

“Uh huh, sure you will.” Muttered for no one to hear, the backroom of Grillby’s was far warmer than the front end behind those swinging doors. Not due at all to the fire monster who stood there, diligently cleaning equipment he used to prepare food, but more so to said equipment. Despite being made of fire, Grillby was actually cool to the touch more often than not, and rarely felt warmer than an autumn’s day.

And yet, the bar always felt like stepping up beside a crackling hearth from the cold, never too hot despite the temperature outside. More the feeling than the actual heat, comfort above sensation. You never understood it, but once, when trying to explain the feeling to Chelsea, she had only laughed with dimples touching those freckled cheeks and said, so unhelpfully, _Magic._

“... Grillby?” You call to him curiously, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow and a brush in one hand, flames unbothered by the suds dripping down it, only hissing gently. He stops, and with a snapping pop of recognition, does he turn to you while setting it down.

The fire elemental hardly ever spoke in words, more in what monsters called intent - some monsters spoke that way, language read in the soul ( and if looked closely by the body ) from monster to monster, and once upon a time understood by humans as well. Humans today can’t… _feel_ intent like they used to, the genuine spring of a monster’s feeling from their soul through touch or purposeful exertion alike, but you’ve learned to read your boss all the same.

“Sorry for bothering you,” You start, shifting a little awkwardly, his tinted shades tilting slightly. “But… It’s important, and, well. I don’t want you to worry in case something happens.”

At his shuddering flames, you explain. Explain, careful as you could, how you came home last night (yes, late, but you hadn’t fully lied to him before, only left out parts of the truth until you could decide what to say) to an eviction notice taped to your door with a two-week window. You tell him how it was out of place at his whispering murmur, but don’t tell him that you know exactly why so in the first place. That you didn’t plan on leaving Ebott if you could help it, and hoped to have a new place first thing, and that… if… things didn’t come out on top at first, to hopefully _please_ not let you lose this job.

“... I need it. If I lose it I’ll have no way to get an apartment, and I’ll be kicked out of the city. I’m… not trying to beg, or get you in trouble, but I just ask you don’t tell anyone. Please.”

 _Please_ , you finish off, looking awkwardly away from fire elemental as he stands there, for the most part unruffled by your explanation. Just silent, in that unmovable fashion of his, the soft crack of embers the only sound par the bar through closed doors. You trust Grillby, but on the same hand, you trust him to be a business owner first, and to understand exactly what you were asking.

If Grillby was found out for willingly not reporting you working in Ebott without residency, he could lose his business if things went south.

... You hadn’t thought about that, making him _lose his bar._ It would be your fault if that happened, and you wouldn’t be able to fix it, because you’d be kicked out of Ebott and who _knew_ what would happen to you then -

“... Okay.” Whisping fire, a line cracks in the wall that makes his face, a mouth slit open between the flames. You nearly feel your neck crack with how quickly you turn to face him, and he speaks slowly, in words alike a groaning fire, “… Will… Help. ”

Help? He’ll help?

“Oh my god,” You can’t help it. A beaming smile cracks across your lips, and you’re nearly tempted to hug the boss monster as is, but despite his cool temperature, you’ve already had the pleasure once of learning that wasn’t the _best_ idea. Something relieved bursts in your chest, a worry you hadn’t even thought you _had_ until now, and the words froth out of you, “Thank you - thank you _so much_. I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that - I promise, Grillby. I do.”

Your unexpected relief must be contagious, because that flickering mouth, cut into his features, turns sharp into a smile before dispersing into the flames.

Just a nod, and you know, hopefully, you’re gonna be alright.

  
  
  


It’s been a week.

It’s been a week of calling around the block, running up and down flights, fruitless emails, unanswered calls, disappointing voicemails, and not a trace of luck in finding a new place to live. You’d settle for a studio - hell, something near the edge of town if it’d just keep you here, but seemingly no matter where you look, you’re shut out.

Your calls either end up going to voicemail, or a friendly email reaches you with such ferocity you're hit with whiplash at the hours prior you might’ve just spoken a friendly realtor. Housing was hard to find in Ebott city, from the monsters free to take up residence in the human district, to stubborn landlords only willing to rent out to monsters for a cheap buck, and by the end of the day, you can’t help but feel almost as if you’ve been placed on some kind of _blacklist_.

… You wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.

Your current apartment’s a quaint thing. Not the one you had prior to monsterkind, lived in and fully yours down to knowing where the exact holes in the walls riddled like artistry, but it had slowly started becoming that way. A place you felt safe, somewhere you felt… _untouchable_ , and wasn’t that the whole point?

Nevermind the neighbors who played music all evening, or the ones who screamed in fits from dusk till dawn. Nevermind the sink that clogged up once a month, or the spotty wifi constantly preyed upon by someone who kept figuring out your password. Nevermind what furniture you had just barely salvaged when coming here, or the love put into making the walls covered top to bottom in memories, this home _your home_.

It was yours, and you were going to lose it, and whose fault was that but your own?

You got attached.

Between your job, schoolwork, and the hunt to find a new place to live, you haven’t even begun to pack. You’ve got the rest of the week left off of work at Grillby’s kind suggestion you use the time wisely, but after the in-person visit from the Royal Guard naught but late last night, you’re left feeling… discouraged.

An anonymous tip let them know you’d be without housing soon, and had yet to even start the process of leaving the city. They had informed you, staunchly and blunt by the metal sheen of the all body armor they wore, that come to your eviction date and that your departure from Ebott City wasn’t at the very least registered and submitted with the proper forms, you’d be detained.

It would take at least a week to get the very minimum done, and what had you left?

... A week.

Rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes, it’s hard not to give up completely. At the moment you’re in an almost _lay down and die_ kind of mood, flung across the couch you’d barely managed to keep, laying on your back and moving your hands to stare quietly at a popcorn riddled ceiling.

The T.V. drones on about something involving a riot downtown, and you hardly listen to the talk of rising protests, unchipped humans, and uneased monsters. It’s all more of the same.

What can you do?

… Your phone buzzes.

Hope slams into your chest, nearly lurching your heart up your throat. The idea someone might’ve finally gotten back to you, or maybe, perhaps, someone looking for a roommate on that ad you’d put up -

**1 new message from ketchup**

It’s sans, but sans… _never_ texts you.

You unlock your phone, confused.

 **g mentioned you were trying to find a new place.** **  
** **figure something out yet?**

… Should you reply? It’s not that you don’t like Sans. He’s a good guy, and given the right mood, he’s a good laugh when he’s not around just to fetch Red. But sometimes... Sometimes he looks at you a certain way, or he it's this way he has of talking to you - like he couldn’t be bothered because you’re a _human_. Putting you down so casually casually, almost subconsciously compared to Red’s rampant racist remarks.

But again, Sans _never_ texted you first.

 **No luck yet, but so far so good.** **  
** **How are you?**

Glancing at the time, it’s mid-afternoon. If you didn’t know any better by both he and Red’s constant chatter over the last few months, usually Sans was either fast asleep or working somewhere between a dozen odd jobs at any given time.

You’re further surprised to see he’s typing a reply already.

 **im good.** **  
** **got a room open, if you want it.**

… _What?_

 **know its coming outta nowhere, but no rent. long as it takes you to find a place, far side of town near mt ebott. just gotta put up with the roommates and help out round the house. can hash out the details in person if you want tmmrw.** **  
** **sound good?**

_Sound good?_

Did you have any other choice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha! you thought i wasn't going to update... fools... Fools... FOOLS...
> 
> i had to write this chapter over six days. most of it was done in the past few hours BUT! i pushed through it getting excited for the next chapter tbh because next up? time for some skeletons (finally)! for now, it's late and i'll read through and edit this in the morning. thank you so much for the praise & kudos so far!
> 
>  
> 
> [come bug me on my tumblr !](http://scripttura.tumblr.com)


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